It’s 6.30am and I decided to write down all the active diagnoses I’m managing. Yesterday, I had a medical appointment for a minor concern and to my surprise, I came out with a new, incurable diagnosis of something else. Out of all the medical problems I have, it really isn’t the worst one. Not even close. But something about receiving yet another lifelong diagnosis broke me.

I have good days and I have bad days but I am honestly exhausted all the time. After my appointment, Frank and I went for a walk around Parque Mexico and it was lovely. We sat and watched the chaos of people practising dance routines, children on their trikes, frisbee games and the rest. I told Frank I was OK, but I think I was numb. I was trying to process yet another chronic condition.

When we got home, the tears came. I couldn’t even say what was wrong, just that it’s “another one”. Another set of treatments to manage, another regular check-up to pay for. What I thought was going to be a inconsequential appointment ended up costing me almost £100 ($2130) for the appointment and medications.

As of yesterday, I have twelve active diagnoses that I am currently managing with either medication, creams, exercise, therapy, diet or a combination of the above. Out of those twelve, eleven are incurable. I constantly forget routines or doses of meds because there is so much to remember, which provokes serious looks from and lectures on how important it is to stick to my prescription from medical professionals. I don’t know if I will be able to have children, I’m overweight, I’m allergic to so many things, I can barely open water bottles at the moment because I am losing the sensation in my arms, I’m asthmatic but need to exercise, I have so many doctors appointments I can’t keep up mentally or financially. You get the picture.

I am not writing this post to get pity, I want to make that clear. I suppose I want to start connecting with the chronic illness community, to find others who are like me, to find understanding. Living like this can feel very isolating and lonely. Most of what I suffer with is invisible, except for the skin conditions, so as an outsider looking at me, you wouldn’t know what I am going through. Numb arms, hair loss, bloating, severe abdominal pain and the rest. As a result, I don’t have a lot of energy to do things, to see friends or stay out late. My party days are very much over, or at least it seems that way. I cancel plans a lot. I am tired all the time. I am burning the candle at both ends and I don’t really know how to stop.

If anybody knows of any chronic illness communities in Mexico City or online that I can join, please let me know. I think that might be a good place for me to start. I am reading a bunch on how to manage living with chronic illnesses, but meeting others who get it might be nice.

Ordinarily, I like to try and write posts with a bright side, with something positive to chew on at the end. I don’t know if I have that in me today. This is my equivalent of screaming into the void, of punching a wall or tearing my hair out. I’ll keep going because I am strong but I am also very, very tired.

I guess my final thought is this, as cliché as it sounds. Please remember that you don’t know what another person is going through just by looking at them. Be kind. Be patient. Don’t be a dickhead.